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 Jun 2015
Sacrelicious
A moment of peace
in between the battles.
Of my heart and mind.

Is as common as a
four leaf clover.
A rare occasion.
A holiday for my heart.

To forget the war it's losing.
 Jun 2015
Sacrelicious
Lost within the fear.
One too many times now.
I can feel my heart slowly,
breaking into a million shattered dreams.
In between irratic palpitations and bursts of nervous energy.
Of course.

I think my soul is ascending to its purest form.
It's both terrifying and beautiful.
Almost like I'm dying and living simultaneously.
 Jun 2015
Sacrelicious
Channeling demons against my will.
My body, used.
Seen nothing more than a flesh ouija board.
In your game of self reassurance.
I'm not the conduit, you wanted me to be.
My eye's just as open as yours.
Stop telling me otherwise.
 Jun 2015
Sacrelicious
Staring out at all that lies before me.
Trapped within a prison.
I look, to see your life blossoming like a beautiful rose.
I'd be living too.
If I wasn't freezing to death.

As the long forgotten Sun kisses my skin, with his warmth.
I can feel my heart shed a few tears.
In light, of the feelings I once had for you.
 May 2015
Sacrelicious
It scares me, how much I'm like you. Generational demons unlocked their curses and waged a war against our souls. Like being caught under a frozen pond. Trying to break free of the oppression. Trying to breathe, while your breath of life became a long dramatic sigh. Like the sand on an hour glass slowly fading into past tense. I used to love you. I used to walk down one way streets too.
 Mar 2015
Courtney Snodgrass
As a young girl myself, I was taught by own mother, that I should never talk to strangers.
It is now that I look back and I see that I spent a majority of my childhood with one.
Every Wednesday, I ate dinner at a table and I spent every other weekend with a man I never really knew.
After the divorce of my parents, joint-custody was given to who I now know to be a stranger to me.
I forgive my mother for trusting the care of this man who is my father to take care of me,
But I cannot begin to think how I would ever intentionally introduce my child to a stranger.
I’ve listened to lectures that I should never open the door to someone I don’t know,
But as a little girl, I welcomed this man through the door of my life.
I’ve heard many times that a man who offers candy or needs help looking for his puppy is not a good man
But a man who gives fake love and wants me to call him ‘daddy’ isn’t a threat to my mental health.
And when my daughter is old enough to realize that she has one grandfather,
When all of her friends have two, I’ll tell her that he died before her time.
the start of something... it'll be included in the new project I'm working on: The Rejected Daughter Series
 Mar 2015
Courtney Snodgrass
Tradition says that the role of walking your daughter down the aisle to her new husband is the act of giving her away to a man who will pick up where you left off in the mission of protecting her.
But the day you gave me away, I wasn’t wearing a long white dress and there wasn’t a man waiting for me at the altar.
You gave me away to the world the day you told me that you needed a break as if our relationship was one that you could just flip a light switch on and off,
But I’ve been in the dark for far too long.
You snapped my spine in half the day you said that I didn’t show love or respect towards you. But how do you model a behavior that you’ve never been shown?
Five years, I tried to make our strained relationship work, for five years, I forgave you for throwing me aside and
Time and time again I tried to love you only to have you show me all the reasons for why I couldn’t.
We would never have the type of father daughter relationship that was described in fairytales or in movies.
You gave me away that day like I was food leftover on a plate of an entrée you were no longer hungry for.
You threw me out, sink or swim into a world full of male potentials,
And I drowned.
I was too worried about finding someone to rescue me from the flowing current and I had forgotten how to tread water.
Years of swimming lessons and I was still reaching for a life preserver.
But I’ve been lost in the sea of men too long.
Being daddy’s little girl is more than just an expression, more than just a role to fill as a daughter.
Being daddy’s little girl means that he wants you too.
Being daddy’s little girl means that we’ll walk down an aisle in between the guests at the wedding and you’ll give me away to my new husband who’ll vow his love for me:
For better or for worse, for rich or for poorer, in sickness and in health
Unlike yourself, where you pushed me away long before we’d reached worse.
You let me go like a balloon on a string without an anchor to hold me down,
Watching me float away without a care in the world as to where I ended up at, whose arms I fell into because I thought he’d take care of me like you were supposed to be doing.
You gave me away as I was just a little girl and I was without the slightest clue of what to look for when trying to find someone to take care of me.
I wanted you to take care of me.
I’d learned from you that distance was far better than being close to someone,
But it didn’t soften the blow when you gave me away.
When I was a little girl, I dreamed of you meeting my new dates and threatening to break their neck if they broke my heart but I can’t help but wonder
Why isn’t your neck shattered?
You took my heart out of my chest and crumpled it like a piece of paper before stomping it into the ground the day you gave me away.
I knew what a broken heart felt like before my first boyfriend did the same.
You left me cut wide open from the wound and I’ve yet to heal.
A hole inside me aches for a love that only a father can give,
The abyss within pains my chest with a void too easy to remember its presence.
And I’ve tried filling it with romantic relationships that meant nothing and guys who only wanted to fill such a space for one night.
You gave me away to the world of males I thought I needed in my life when I only needed you.
But you’d never know that because you gave me away
Like giving away spare change on the floorboards of your truck to a homeless person and I’m not sure if I’m the coins or if I’m the person in need of a home.
You gave me away the day you married the woman who took my spot and she became the most important girl in your life.
 Feb 2015
Sacrelicious
I don't want to be here.
Or there.
Anywhere for that matter.
I just want to exist, free.

Like the wind taking fallen leaves
off into the sunset.
Or lonely ghosts coming to haunt memories of yesterday.

Aren't we all.
So lucky, if we can still find ourselves. Even after all the horrors time has brought us.
 Feb 2015
Sacrelicious
Rums got me runnin'
back into those arms.

Behind them
head light eyes,
lies
a different story.

This fifths got me
walkin' the plank.
"Captains" orders.
 Feb 2015
JLB
Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy.
Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy.
Vagrancy. Vagrancy. Vagrancy. Vagrancy. Vagrancy. Vagrancy. Vagrancy. Vagrancy.
Vagrancy. Vagrancy. Vagrancy. Vagrancy. Vagrancy. Vagrancy. Vagrancy. Vagrancy.
Aimlessly. Aimlessly. Aimlessly. Aimlessly. Aimlessly. Aimlessly. Aimlessly. Aimlessly. Aimlessly. Aimlessly. Aimlessly. Aimlessly. Aimlessly. Aimlessly. Aimlessly.
Rambling rambling
trying to
say….
…what.
What is…what is…this world…but a tiny little thing.
A speechless infant. A cowslip in spring.
A girl.  Who I am…? A…


Thing. A thing. Imagine! If I can…
When everything is vast. No words, no way.
No truth, no words. No way.
No truth, no words. No way.
No truth, no words. No way.
To say…

I’m a girl wandering in April. I’m a girl wandering in April. I’m a girl wandering in April. I am a girl wandering in April.
I’m a woman wandering in April. I’m a woman wandering in April.
I’m 70 and I’m wandering in April. I’m 70.
Who…a cowslip
An IV drip.
Me, wandering with no words.

Then, brain
working down
the whole machine
no, just the mouth
to verbalize and verify
and analyze and clarify
and organize and ratify
and formalize and justify

the vacancy
of vibrations
in my vox box.
complacency
of situations
until one talks.
Based on Samuel Beckett's "Not I"
 Jan 2015
Courtney Snodgrass
At a very small age, much too young
to know what a true love felt like,
I learned that I’d never be the
special girl in your life.
I could see from the distance already
wedged between us that there would
always be a much larger section
of your heart that I’d never be
good enough to fill.
I was only a very small part of
your world, taking up a tiny section
of your heart like a sliver wedged
deep inside the membrane of your
greatest *****; like a paper cut to the
side of your finger; so small just to push
aside but too much pain to forget completely.
I was the mistake you were trying to
move on from, to put behind you,
to forget about me as if I never existed.
Even from a modest age, I knew how
to long after a man who barely knew that
I belonged to him.
You were out of my league;
in a total different game.
I could hang on to someone like they were
the air I needed inside my lungs to breathe.
But you only ever wanted to be let go.
Oxygen is nothing that I’ll ever be able to touch.
You taught me what it meant to be temporary
before I would ever know what commitment was
and I learned soon enough that
they didn’t mean the same thing.

I tried and I tried and I tried
to be your girl.
I experienced my first broken heart
when you asked her to marry you.
We never had a relationship
but she became the wedge between
our potential friendship.
I learned what heartbreak felt like by a
man who said he loved me but had
the strangest way of showing it.
I learned that actions spoke louder than words
but sometimes actions didn’t speak at all.
I learned to never believe the truth
because you’d taught me how good a lie
felt within my ears;
like the harmony of an orchestra whose
conductor was blind to the instruments
being played in front of him.
We’ve never known harmony;
always out of tune,
I hated the sound of music.
I loved fairytales but hated Cinderella
and the reality that she brought to my life.
Blood wasn’t thicker;
It meant nothing to be related biologically
when romantic love came into play.
From a young age, I learned the world
was a cruel and unfair place
and I had to fight from my
corner of the ring by myself.
I learned what favoritism meant
and not because you chose me.
I learned temporary,
but never knew commitment.
The ratio of lies to truths was far greater.
After knowing distance,
I knew how to be cautious.
After you broke my heart,
I learned hate.
I knew how it felt to hate before
I would ever know how to love.
I knew it like the back of my hand;
more than I could ever know you.

But it’s time I taught myself something
so I’m learning forgiveness.
I forgive you,
for not knowing what it means
to be a father.
I forgive you for never choosing me
and for always picking her.
I tried and I tried and I tried
to be daddy’s girl,
but you never allowed me that privilege
and your heart was never large enough
for both of us,
so I forgive you for loving her more;
I forgive you for being my dad.
this feels so good to get out of my head; literally feels like a weight has been lifted from my chest.
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